Whispers to the Tide
by vermouthhh
Summary: Shepard struggles to enjoy a fleeting, private moment with Thane. Shrios one-shot.


**Whispers to the Tide**

He's tired. She can feel his weariness. It's a tangible aura around him. In the dark of the room, it's overpowering and suffocating. When she first encountered him at Huerta she'd been eager to make up for lost time. He agreed, and when they found themselves locked in a tangle of limbs and wordless impulses sometime later she'd felt better than she had in a long while. But now, as she listens to the slow rattle of breath in his tired lungs and feels his half-hearted fingers resting on her bare hip, guilt settles over her in waves.

In another hour, she'll have to leave him. She has responsibilities. The weight of the galaxy rests on her shoulders and she feels the press of time more strongly now than ever. But she can't bring herself to move. Shepard's half afraid to even breathe. Even one infinitesimal movement could disturb their peace, like a pebble into a pond creating ripples. Right now, everything is still and perfect if she only pretends. She's pressed up against his side and his arm gently encircles her. They're both awake, but with their eyes closed. Their hearts murmur into one another. In vain, she tries to make hers beat for him.

Thane sighs. It's a wispy note in her ear. She opens her eyes just briefly to behold him –emerald flesh taut with muscle and discipline. An assassin in a most peaceful state. Elegant even in sickness. They have both loved and lost once before. And to have found one another in the midst of war and fear is mercy she never expected from fate. They are old souls now. Lying in each other's arms as the stars burn out one by one around them. Shepard closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see anymore. She doesn't want to think. Darkness finds her but it offers no relief. Her lover still breathes shallow and low beside her and his weary heartbeat reminds her of a clock that she must now act by.

It's not quite fair, somehow. After all they've seen together, after all they've experienced. When she met Thane he was already a dying man. The implications of that never occurred to her until she'd sat with him on the Normandy, hands clasped, and mutually came to an agreement that they cared for one another in uncertain, yet irrevocable ways. She hadn't been sure they could call it love then. Months later, she would laugh about the apprehension. Now –it only serves to rip her apart. Loving Thane is perhaps the only respite she's ever allowed herself. It has been the only sweetness for her, the only print upon the world she's proud to leave. She has loved him unconditionally. And he has returned the gesture.

And yet, they are still forced apart. With every minute longer she lies here, it is another minute closer to a day that will come –and she knows it will- when she won't be able to remember how he feels this close to her side. Humans, unlike Drell, are both blessed and cursed with intermittent recollection. Today, it is a poison to her. In panic, she tries to harden to memory all of her sensations. She listens in earnest to his feeble breath, feels his cool flesh against hers –and when sensation alone is not enough she opens her eyes and freezes the picture of him in her mind forever. Peaceful, soft, and so achingly beautiful something inside her breaks and withers into dust.

She closes her eyes once more and tries to control herself. If she ruins her thoughts with her frantic need to remember all of him at once, this moment they have together will be tarnished. But she can't _help_ it. A childish need to refuse the world outside overtakes her. Her breath quickens. Her cheeks flush. An urge to scream wells inside her before she crushes it with a hard swallow.

"_Siha_."

His low, rumbling register purrs at her ear. Their glassy pond disturbs with ripples as he shifts until he's leaning over her. His hand reaches for her face and he brushes hair away from her temple.

"You are unhappy," he observes.

Before she can stop it, a tear slips down her cheek. It's a selfish tear. He's the one who's sick. He's the one who has no idea how long he has left. And here she is crying because she doesn't want him to _go. _She wants to apologize for her weakness, but can't find words. Her throat closes up as she tries to stifle any more tears from falling.

"Shepard," he murmurs, "Do not fear my absence."

She opens her eyes. His face hovers close to her. She doesn't know how to assign these things to memory. It feels like everything is slipping through her fingers like sand.

"The goddess Arashu will guide you long after I am gone. I have asked for her to protect you many times and she has heard my prayers," a serene smile paints his mouth, "You will not be alone."

She swallows her fear. Another tear follows the first.

"Are you afraid of dying?" she whispers and for a moment is unconvinced she's a day over sixteen.

He kisses her forehead tenderly. The painful drag of an inhale preceeds his next words.

"I have been prepared to die for sometime,_ siha_. I do not fear death so much as I wait upon it for the peace I believe it will grant me."

Her chest hiccups with a stifled sob. An apologetic look crosses her face as another tear tumbles down her opposite cheek. He kisses it away and then murmurs by her ear.

"But I know it does not grant you peace," he says with cool, even sympathy.

He places a feathery kiss at her collar. His hands cup her ribs.

"For that, I am sorry."

A watery laugh trembles from her lungs.

"You shouldn't apologize for dying," she says.

He murmurs a chuckle against her skin.

"I have not apologized for enough in this life, _siha_. For bringing you pain, I must."

She looks up into his eyes. Fathomless, unending eyes.

"Thane –you haven't brought me anything but joy," she insists, "Loving you has been more wonderful than I could've ever imagined. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He drags in another breath, "It pleases me to hear you say that."

They settle back into quiet. He kisses her slow and patient at her jaw, her ribs and her temples. She lies there and abandons the idea of assigning these sensations to memory. Greif swallows her whole. Thane murmurs a prayer in between kisses. The rumble of his voice quakes inside her. And the world outside fades out once more.

"Across sands and waves and the sweet salt of the sea, Kalihira carry me. The ocean awaits my body. Your arms await my light. I shall call upon the white crests of your castle and reside in the home of your ever-swelling love."


End file.
